Friday, January 13, 2012

A quick quiz. Who has two thumbs, used to write a blog, and is now the official unofficial smart-ass and John Gadret worshiper of 2012 masters ‘cross Worlds?

Me.

I was seeking some clarification about the seeding heats which several age groups at the now-in-progress UCI Masters Cyclo-cross World Championships (the first EVER ‘cross world championship of any kind held outside of Europe, hosted by Louisville, Kentucky) had to contest prior to their actual world title race, which brought me to the event’s technical guide.

And there it is on page 2’s “Dear Racer” introduction, for all of the masters ‘cross universe to peruse, a link to my very own ode to America’s only ‘cross world champion: Matt Kelly-Low Budget Superstar, cited as “a fun read” by masters ‘cross Worlds organisers Joan Hanscom and Bruce Fina.

I don’t know if some lowly staffer has punked the tech guide, or if the Matt Kelly-Low Budget Superstar decision indeed came down from on high, but it was, to say the least, a surprise of epic proportion.

I had no earthly idea this would be included, and if I had I’d be in Louisville right now, in a booth, autographing tech guides and prepping all within earshot for the 2013 arrival of his freakiness, John Gadret, to Eva Bandman Park for the full-on elite ‘cross Worlds next year, where I can assure you he won’t again be abandoned by his chain-smoking pit crew on the last lap if he’s got a medal in his sights.

And I’d also be laughing, because a certain former employer of mine, with a flying P logo, gets some not-so-nice PR about its total ineptitude when it came to supplying US team edition kits for the Poprad, Slovakia world championships. D’oh!

One way or another I’ll be in Louisville next year for ‘cross worlds, and maybe there will indeed be a Matt Kelly-Low Budget Superstar booth containing me, living legend Matt Kelly, his rusty LeMond, and his rainbow jersey to inspire our compatriots to bring home the gold in what will likely be the only ‘cross world championships hosted in the United States for some time.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

As the 2011 Tour de France starts in earnest today, I thought it would be a good time to revisit my homage to the clip-art genius of David Rees, creator of Get Your War On, with my own version, Get Your Grand Tour On, which first aired on Bobke Strut just prior to the 2008 Tour.

With the unfortunate passing of Laurent Fignon in August of 2010, this will be the first Tour without “The Professor”, but maybe not the last…

And a hat tip to Brad Evans, who beat me to the punch with the re-airing of GYGTO.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

One of my favorite moments of cycling lore and legend involves Swiss superstar Thomas Frischknecht at the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta, Georgia. On July 30, 1996 Frischknecht earned a silver medal in the mountain bike event. One day later, with a slot on the Swiss road squad suddenly vacant due to the last minute withdrawl of Tony Rominger, Frischknecht slapped some road wheels on his Ritchey ‘cross bike and rocked the road race. The 26-year-old Swiss survived the 222km event to finish 110th, 4:08 behind compatriot and gold medalist Pascal Richard, for likely the first and last time a cyclist competed in both the road and mountain bike events at a single Olympics.

Fast forward to the 2010 Tour of Slovakia and a certain Czech ‘cross world champion with a similar mindset.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Since I just finished reading each and every last page (all 715 of them) of Bill Simmons’ lengthy tome The Book of Basketball, it got me thinking about applying his Martian Premise to the 2013 Cyclo-Cross World Championships, recently awarded to Louisville, Kentucky.

The Martian Premise in a nutshell:

Let’s say basketball-playing aliens land on earth, blow things up Independence Day-style, then challenge us to a seven-game series for control of the universe. And let’s say we have access to the time machine from Lost, allowing us to travel back Sarah Conner-style and grab any twelve NBA legends from 1946 through 2009, transport them to the present day, then hold practices for eight weeks before the Final Finals. Again, we have to prevail or planet Earth as we know it ends. Which twelve players would you pick?Page 673.

While I’m not really sure if Hunter S. Thompson would groove on the concept and aesthetic appeal of cyclo-cross as an athletic endeavor, nonetheless I’m invoking the Martian Premise to reach back in time and deliver 1970 Hunter S. Thompson and partner-in-crime Ralph Steadman to Louisville, Kentucky (Thompson’s hometown and bête noire) for the world ‘cross championships in 2013. Because the thought of the cream of the world’s ‘cross peloton racing for rainbow bands in Kentucky is pretty much the same as aliens landing in the US and blowing things up Independence Day-style.

Why 1970 Hunter S. Thompson, you ask? Well, that’s the magical year in which he crafted the first instance of gonzo journalism: The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved, also the first collaboration between Thompson and Ralph Steadman. It’s also the year in which Hunter S. Thompson nearly became elected sheriff of Aspen, Colorado on the “Freak Power” ticket, a political race which saw the creation of the most badass campaign poster ever conceived, courtesy of artist Tom Benton:

And I don’t think Thompson and Steadman would need an additional posse of ten to round out my Martian Premise, those two will suffice just fine in Louisville.

Just imagine it, Thomspon unleashed at what will be the craziest two days of ‘cross racing this country has ever seen. He’s just the tonic to go toe-to-toe with DBDs, offer up bourbon shots on run-ups, fire off large-caliber handguns into the air for shits and giggles, heckle souls like nobody’s business and just be wired to his core with the manic energy afoot amongst rabid tifosi.

And how could you go wrong with Ralph Steadman’s illustrations to chronicle the shenanigans afoot? Especially when I arrange for Hunter S. Thompson to have a meet-and-greet with the alien to end all aliens John Gadret.

Ah, yes…one can dream.

And while (woefully) the sport in which Hunter S. Thompson cared the most about is professional football, I unearthed a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon connection between Thompson and a legend of cycling. And a legend of motorsports, too, which is a veritable Hunter S. Thompson passion.

It all started in one of those cosmic coincidences, in my case buying some Flying Dog Brewery beer while immersed in reading the definitive tome of Thompson’s life, William McKeen’s Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson (highly recommended). I always wondered why Flying Dog Brewery beer is adorned with Hunter S. Thompson quotes and Ralph Steadman artwork, and now I found my answer.

The founder of Flying Dog Brewery is a certain George Stranahan, who opened the brewery’s precursor, the Flying Dog brewpub, in Aspen, Colorado. Stranahan has had an interesting life and is amongst other things things the founder of the Aspen Institute for Physics - a world-class center for theoretical physics; a professional photographer; creator of the “Mountain Gazette”; founder of the Woody Creek Tavern; and a 40-year friend of Hunter S. Thompson. Stranahan’s bio on the Flying Dog Brewery website states his and Thompson’s “common interests as drinking, talking politics, guns, noise, and some drugs”.

Now, to the Kevin Bacon part. Hunter S. Thompson’s famous abode, Owl Farm, located in Woody Creek, Colorado, about 10 miles outside of Aspen, was acquired from George Stranahan. Stranahan had been coming to Woody Creek since the mid-1950s and settled permanently there in the early 1970s. Stranahan came from a wealthy family and owned real estate in the Aspen area, a portion of which became Thompson’s famed compound.

Stranahan’s money can be traced back to George’s grandfather, Frank Stranahan, and his great-uncle, Robert Stranahan, who founded the Champion Spark Plug Company in 1905. Frank and Robert Stranahan’s early partner in that endeavor was a certain Frenchman named Albert Champion, the Champion of Champion Spark Plugs.

In the early 1900s Champion came to America to avoid both conscription in France and to take up the sport of auto racing. He quit driving race cars after nearly being killed in a race accident, but remained involved in the design and manufacture of spark plugs and magnetos in his workshop.

The Stranahans and Champion had a falling out, which led Champion to depart from the Stranahan partnership and form a rival firm called AC Spark Plug Company (the AC is Champion’s initials), now AC-Delco.

But before Champion made his mark in the world of motorsports, he first came to prominence as a cyclist with two notable wins in his palmares. As a 21-year-old in 1899, Albert Champion won none other than The Hell of the North, Paris-Roubaix. He later became the French motor-pace champion on the track.

So there you have it…the Hunter S. Thompson/Paris-Roubaix connection, courtesy of a trivia contest based on Hollywood’s iconic bike messenger, Kevin Bacon.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Part I

In the not too distant past, the Clark Kent to my Bobke Strut earned a living by being a state government employee, more specifically a librarian. The job had its ups and downs, as any means of employment usually does, but one of the awesome perks was my department had a sweet travel budget.

Sweet travel budget=conferences galore, nationwide. I’ve been to San Francisco, Washington, DC, Miami Beach, Minneapolis, and Chicago among other places.

And then there was Baltimore. ‘Going to conferences’ is frequently synonymous with hitting the local bars ASAP as soon as one’s sessions conclude. As luck would have it, there were quite a few bars to frequent in the immediate vicinity of my conference venue.

The gods must have surely been smiling down upon me, for somehow I stumbled across a drinking establishment with this sign inside:

Now, I thought Mr. Robert Matthew Van Winkle had retired that persona, but apparently not. And then…sweet Jesus…I peeked into the VIP area and saw this:

Now that’s fucking awesome.

In case you wondered, no, I did not happen to encounter Mr. Vanilla Ice in person as I was there a tad bit too early. Besides, it would have ruined the day in which none other than John Waters gave the keynote speech at my library conference. Several hours after he uttered his last word to the throngs of assembled librarians I was still in shock. John Waters knows how to spin a yarn, and he regaled us with stories of Baltimore and his film-making career for approximately an hour. Suffice it to say, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day at a library conference where a speaker was telling stories about being teabagged. Now that’s how you deliver a memorable keynote address.

I’ve always wondered if the party(ies) responsible for booking John Waters only knew him through his later films such as Hairspray, or if they were consciously aware they were also unleashing the creator of Pink Flamingos on the audience. Waters told a story about such a scenario, where a person rented Hairspray, liked it, then rented Pink Flamingos and tried to sue him for obscenity.

Of course, I had to get a book signed afterwards.

Part II

And speaking of Ice, in a quirk of cosmic fate the weather in my neck of North Carolina happens to be the same as Tabor, Czech Republic - the iciest, snowiest ‘cross Worlds since Poprad, Slovakia in 1999. So I thought, time to bust out the ‘cross bike and take in the snow and ice right outside my door.

About one hour later I returned home, with a bit of Mother Nature as a souvenir.

Part III

And speaking of Ice, the freakiest man in cyclo-cross, John Gadret, is back at it. He blew off ‘cross season last year in order to focus on his road career and, uh, that didn’t quite work out. So he’s back, and will be seeking World Championship glory tomorrow in frozen Tabor, the one time out of the year he can ride sans his usual AG2R La Mondiale chocolate madness kit.

Now John Gadret has what one would call a love-hate relationship with racing ‘cross bikes on ice. You see, he would love to knock the lights out of his pit crew at said Poprad ‘cross Worlds in 1999 because he hates losing out on a certain silver medal in the U23 race. It turns out that a young JG was solidly in second place on the last lap in Poprad, so solid that all of the French pit crew at the second pit area bolted their positions to congregate at the finish line in celebration.

Unfortunately, Gadret flatted, rolled into the pit area, and was a bit freaked out to find nobody there. So freaked out, in fact, that by the time he bummed a wheel from neutral support and got back in the race he dropped to fifth place.

D’oh.

Bart Wellens won gold, fellow Belgian Tom Vannoppen won silver, and an incredulous Tim Johnson, unaware of Gadret’s mishap when he crossed the line, nabbed bronze, the first-ever ‘cross world championship medal for an American.

Let’s see what my favorite “hairless spider monkey” can uncork tomorrow in Tabor. My guess? 24th place, about 3:30 down on a raging Zdenek Stybar.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

I’ve been poking around some on the LIFE photo archives, unsurprisingly perusing their images related to cycling. When you enter the phrase “bicycle racing” into the search engine, 31 photographs are returned. As one would expect, there are some Tour de France photos, some 6-day photos from the ’40s, several Little 500 pics, and then there’s a certain Monsieur Fourcet (as seen above).

The caption to this photograhs reads, “Veteran cyclist Fourcet expessing low opinion of modern racers, saying they no longer have good legs and are much too lazy.”

The location is France.

The month is July.

And the year is 1953.

Jeez, you’ve got to wonder what it takes to impress this guy. It’s quite likely the photo was captured while the 1953 Tour de France was in progress, won by that well-known slacker Louison Bobet, his first of three consecutive Tour victories. Alongside other perennial softies such as Raphaël Géminiani, Gino Bartali, Wim Van Est, Fiorenzo Magni, Hugo Koblet, Charly Gaul and Jean Robic.

And as luck would have it, there’s some stellar prose recently created concerning Louison Bobet: the ever-interesting Dave Moulton penned a Bobet primer and Rouleur #12 has a profile of Bobet’s younger brother, Jean, a rider (and writer) of no modest abilities in his own right. You’ll have to get your hands on the issue (or better yet, his book Tomorrow We Ride) to read his account of Louison laying waste to the field on Mont Ventoux during the 1955 Tour, while he endured his own personal level of hell to finish his first Grand Tour.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

When major television networks, such as CBS, deem someone a “professional cyclist” I tend to get a wee bit suspicious. Yeah, sure he is. Just like I am, because, after all, I’ve won money pedaling my bike, too.

But wouldn’t you know, the man pictured above, Tyson Apostol, contestant on the current rendition of Survivor, indeed raced as a full-on Euro pro for three years as far as I can tell:

According to the Survivor website, Apostol is described thusly: “In many ways Tyson can be brash, egotistical and unapologetic but, oddly enough, he has no tolerance for ‘know-it-alls’ or individuals who lack common courtesy. In addition to, as he describes it, ‘looking awesome,’ his favorite hobbies are exercising and sunbathing. If he becomes the next sole SURVIVOR, he plans to use all of the money for selfish purposes, starting with ‘the most smoking motorcycle around.’

That sounds like Mario Cipollini. Or most of the Rock Racing roster.

Can Apostol prevail and upgrade his meager cycling-centric income to one padded with a $1,000,000 injection of cash?

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Photo source: http://www.whitesparrow.com/Shack%20Shakers/pg8.html

In the not-too-distant past, I happened to be rummaging through my oversized loose change jar and came across a ticket stub from Sleazefest–one of the all-time great, now non-existent, garage-rock/rockabilly musical festivals of decadence which happened to take place right down the road in Chapel Hill.

Sleazefest usually took place in mid-August, frequently coinciding with the French Broad stage race in the Asheville vicinity. French Broad was usually run as an omnium and I dutifully took advantage of its a la carte racing menu to forego the Friday TT and Sunday crit to partake in the yin and yang balance of health and decadence in a single Saturday: brutal road racing in the mountains in the am and hours of an ear-shattering, eye-popping, rock n’ roll freak show replete with cages alongside stage for go-go dancers, Beatle Bob, more ink than a Bic factory, more wallet chains than Sturges, all fueled by gallons of watery beer and buckets of greasy french fries in the pm. I’d leave Durham at the crack of dawn, race my bike about 70+ miles, drive back home, then immediately head off to Chapel Hill for an evening of ill repute.

And any time I’m reminded of Sleazefest, I immediately think of the one and only time I witnessed Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers live in person. At Sleazefest, appropriately enough. Colonel J.D. Wilkes, pictured on the right wearing some fetching lederhosen, is a front-man of unparalleled charisma, verve, and manic energy. I’m almost certain he was dressed just as he appears in that photo while playing in Chapel Hill. And as one can tell, Mr. Wilkes is freaky skinny. And when he sucks in his non-existent gut to take a deep breath a gap forms at the waist between his torso and said lederhosen waistband. And I’m pretty sure J.D. is sans undergarments, to boot. For what I witnessed, at the crescendo of a Shack Shaker number, was Colonel J.D. Wilkes’ hand reaching inside his lederhosen and emerging with a clenched fist full of pubes freshly ripped from his loins which he proceeded to sprinkle on the heads of those brave souls pressed against the stage. Un-fucking-believable.

But let’s not forget the guitar player…a certain David Lee. For some inexplicable reason, I happened to be on the band’s website and there was a mention of David Lee leaving the band earlier this year. And in the message board,the reasons mentioned were that Lee needed some more time to pursue other musical opportunities…and cycling. Digging a little deeper, I discovered that David Lee indeed has a passion for riding: it seems that Lee would ride his bike all over the place snapping photos while the band was touring in Europe plus there was an account of Lee being hit by a car a few years ago while out on a 100 mile training ride (thankfully he wasn’t too seriously injured, but fundraisers were necessary to defray his medical bills). And through the magic of the internets, it seems that the former Legendary Shack Shaker guitar player rolled up to the start line of 35+ crit nationals last year and did all right.

How about that, a pretty fast Cat. 2 who’s also living the rock n’ roll life. But of course, I’m late to the party. The Bike Game already knew this 2 years ago.

Monday, October 13, 2008

I must confess that I’ve never really been much of an Al Trautwig fan during his forays into Tour de France talking head-dom. That being said, it was quite amusing to hear Trautwig rip into his fellow announcers and the Flyers home office regarding Sarah Palin’s recent puck-dropping episode on Philadelphia home ice. I rarely find myself viewing professional sports outside of pro cycling and Formula 1 so my breadth of sportscaster experiences is rather limited, but these clowns on air with Trautwig make my regular cast of characters all sound like Rhodes scholars. About Palin — “Look how HOT she is!”…describing the presidential election as “entertainment”? Trautwig must have to down a fifth of bourbon and take a long shower each and every night to counteract the effects of the bottom-feeding braintrust on air with him during hockey season.